


an anthology through transcendence (and bigfoot theories)

by neytirijade



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Ficlets, Fluff, One Word Prompts, Prompt Fill, Smut, Tumblr Prompt, etc etc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-02-14 01:36:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 13,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12997002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neytirijade/pseuds/neytirijade
Summary: just a collection of unrelated prompt responses and short fics I've posted on Tumblr (three new ficlets as of 8.12.18)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> bear with me as I slowly become better at writing. 
> 
> Prompt: “Mulder… this isn’t easy for me to ask, and you don’t have to, but… it would really mean a lot if you could come in with me.”
> 
> season 7/per manum AU

He doesn’t hesitate; he doesn’t have to. Glancing her way, he reads the worry and hope lining her features, and gives a nearly unnoticeable nod before stepping out of the car and around to the side to open the passenger door for her.

They’re quiet as Scully signs her name onto the waiting list, and the silence stretches on for several minutes after they sit. Mulder tries to flick through a magazine from the table next to him, but Scully is restless, her knee nervously shaking up and down.

It stills, however, when he reaches over to lace his fingers with hers atop her thigh, and she looks up at him in thanks as his thumb lazily traces along her jean-clad leg, the small touches relaxing her muscles—if only a little.

“Dana?”

The nurse, Lisa, who both Mulder and Scully know well from their previous, separate trips here, smiled when she saw them both approach.

“It’s good to see the two of you! Come on back,” Lisa leads them to an exam room, shutting the door quietly behind them before flipping through Scully’s chart. Mulder sits in the corner chair next to the exam bed where Scully steps up to sit.

“So, what brings the two of you here today? Were you looking to try another shot at the IVF? I heard from Dr. Parenti that your first try a few months back was unsuccessful,” Lisa begins.

“Um, no…” Scully starts to say, her eyes fleeting from Mulder back to the nurse. “You are correct, the IVF didn’t work,” she clears her throat, attempting to rid her voice of its hesitance. “I, uh… I’m actually here—we’re here—because I’m about two months late, and um… I took two at home pregnancy tests, and I know those things aren’t always 100%–“

“Oh.” Lisa’s face suddenly breaks with understanding, then her face seems to light up: “Oh!”

She’s beaming at Mulder and Scully, half elated for them, and half amused at their embarrassment, including the red flare on Scully’s usually pale skin. Lisa steps over, taking their hands in each of hers:

“Sometimes, these things just can’t be faked,” she says. “I couldn’t be happier for the two of you.” Then, she moves Scully’s hand over and rests it on Mulder’s. “Now stop looking like y’all got caught kissin’ in the girls’ bathroom—this is the mother of your child for gosh sakes!” she says to Mulder, the smile still on her face. “I’ll go get Dr. Parenti and tell him the news. Don’t move, either of you! I almost feel like I need to grab a Polaroid for this.”

Lisa watches as Scully looks over, giving Mulder a flustered smile and clutching his hand closer to her, before stepping out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no prompt, just a little thing I wrote a few months ago. the morning after.

The tiniest hints of sunlight are just beginning to softly puncture the darkness in the room as he wakes. When his eyes open, the first thing he registers is the red glow of the numbers on his alarm clock, reading 6:08 AM. He begins to fall back to sleep, when his brain and body registers the second thing:

Body heat.

Mulder stretches his muscles long on the bed, very lightly as not to wake the other occupant, who is tucked tight and warm against him as she sleeps. His head rolls over to watch the sunlight begin to trickle over her crimson hair, and he finds his lips move to the back of her shoulder on their own accord.

More warmth, he finds. She breathes deeply, her side moving ever so lightly against him. Mulder rolls off of his back and onto his side to burrow her deeper into him, his arm slipping around her waist.

His kisses trail over her neck now, and though he doesn’t mean for them to wake her, there’s a soft sound that comes from her throat as her breathing changes– almost a purr, he thinks– and she stretches into him, her own hand finding his along her stomach.

“It’s still the weekend, right?” She mumbles sleepily as his lips move across her hair.

He smiles. They had a pretty late night. “Yep. Go back to sleep, Scully.”

A few moments pass, and her breathing begins to deepen again, so he thinks she’s fallen back asleep. But slowly, she moves to look at him in the growing sunlight, and his lips finally find purchase against hers– and more warmth, a warmth that spreads his entire being.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: revival era, Mulder acknowledging Scully's birthday for the first time since she left

It’s been a few months since they returned to the X Files. At first, Scully was nervous: she was afraid to be pulled into Mulder’s orbit again, the spin of cosmic energy that, for over 15 years, made her feel whole. But over the last couple of years, since the depression consumed him, it threatened to consume her, too.

She loved to be with him again, almost as if the past 20 years hadn’t happened; but she was scared that his hopelessness, and her inability to help him, to fight off the demons crowding his head, would break her.

It’s late now, and they’re both packing up to leave; Mulder, to their former home, and Scully to her small, empty apartment. They’re discussing remnants of their recent case when Mulder shuts the lights off while Scully is still pulling her files together.

“Mulder, what the hell,” she says, but there’s a smirk forming on her lips. He’s always up to something.

“Shh, Scully,” he replies in the darkness. “I can’t find my damn lighter… Ah, yes!”

She sees Mulder’s silhouette as his finger flicks a cigarette lighter alight, then the room is suddenly bathed in low, subtle lighting as he holds the flame to a tiny candle. Which, as she moves closer, she sees is atop a cupcake– vanilla, with colored frosting. Her favorite.

“Oh, Mulder,” she whispers, stopping to look down at the candle.

“Happy birthday, Scully.” She glances up at him just in time to see his nervous smile before it disappears: “I know that… The past couple years I’ve been selfish. I’ve been mad at you for leaving.”

“Mulder…” Scully tries to interrupt, but he puts his hand on her arm gently.

“I’ve started to understand now why you left. I’m not mad at you anymore, Scully. I’m not mad at myself anymore, either,” Mulder looks down at the candle, watching the tiny flame flicker in the darkness, “I’m trying to do everything to change, and I am, little by little. I just want you to know that nothing’s changed when it comes to how I feel about you.” His eyes catch hers again, and finally, after nearly three years, Scully doesn’t see darkness in them: she sees hope.

“I’ll always love you the same way I did twenty-three years ago,” he finishes. “I hope I can get better and maybe… maybe we can try again.”

She smiles up at him through her tears before leaning over and blowing the small birthday candle out. She can barely see him now, other than the light from the hallway, but she looks up at him again: “Yeah, Mulder. As long as I know you’re okay, we can try again.” And she reaches up to leave a gentle kiss at his lips, then steps back. “Come on, I’ll share my cupcake with you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here's where we get to the nc-17 rating, lovelies.
> 
> prompt: Mulder wakes to find Scully making breakfast in his kitchen wearing his Knicks t-shirt (and nothing else)

Nearly seven years of restraint go out the window when he walks into his kitchen; he steps slowly, carefully, as he approaches her. She tenses hard against his chest as he closes his digits over her biceps, and a sharp gasp escapes her throat.

“So that’s what happened to my shirt,” he breathes against her copper hair. His fingers dip around her elbows before ghosting against the cotton of the previously AWOL garment against her waist.

She doesn’t respond, but her tensed muscles wilt slowly against his ministrations.

“Mulder…” The warmth of his hands find the hem of the t-shirt, the tips of his fingers tickling the backs of her bare thighs, and whatever protests she might have wither on her tongue. She barely has the presence of mind to shut the stove off before his wandering hands discover her other secret.

He bares his teeth against the back of her neck. “Scully,” his voice is thick with something like astonished delight and it tickles her skin, bare of any other form of fabric to hinder his ministrations; she arches back into him and moans when she feels his full cock against her lower back.

His restraint is wearing thin. He slips his index and middle fingers past the curve of her ass and between her unsteady thighs, and his teeth bear down hard on the skin between her neck and shoulder when he’s coated with her slickness in seconds.

This time, his name on her lips is pleading.

He near shoves her upper body down over the kitchen counter before dropping to his knees. He raises the bottom of the shirt and he splays his fingers over her hips, his thumbs pressing into the cleft of her ass to spread her open for him before he slicks his probing tongue through her soaked slit.

Scully jerks against him and a keening sound is harshly exhaled from behind her teeth. She squirms against his face and bruising grip as he wholeheartedly gorges himself on her sex, his tongue finding her entrance then slipping rough against her clit.

He presses his face hard against the back of her thighs as his mouth tilts to give a hard suck of the tender bud, and she’s speeding greatly toward the edge already when three of his fingers plunge deep into her cunt.

“Oh! Fuck!” She grips the edge of the countertop so hard it makes her hand cramp, and the other one is bent awkwardly to squeeze his wrist. Her nails dig hard into his skin as she comes– she comes so hard, her vision is black around the edges when the orgasm finally, almost mercifully, subsides– and her pussy gives one last squeeze of his fingers as he pulls them from her and rises to his feet.

She’s molded to the countertop and doesn’t want to move, but Mulder gently slips his arms around her waist to pull her upright and turn her toward him. Her eyes are still closed as she raises her lips to him, his tongue still tangy and thick with her come; he gathers her into his arms, her thighs moving tightly around his waist, before he carries her back to his bedroom.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was sent this prompt by @wtfmulder, who is positively one of my favorite MSR writers; therefore I was ridiculously nervous to write it because I thought it'd be positively amateur next to her fic. but she was fab helping me brainstorm and left some awesome feedback that made me feel like maybe this wasn't so bad after all. legit, though, go read ALL of her stuff if you haven't. it's fantastic. Chelsea, you're fantastic.
> 
> prompt: their first day in the office after they've finally slept together for the first time, and they can't keep their hands off each other
> 
> additional note: the fic is rated explicit for a good reason. this fic is filthy as hell. enjoy.

The entire morning-- from the time her alarm goes off at 5:30 up to, an hour and a half later, she’s jabbing the button on the elevator to the basement office-- Scully is giddy and nervous, a feeling she hasn’t experienced since 9th grade. She’s far from high school, far from the exciting newness of _boys_ , of the giggling chatter of girlfriends and passed notes and first dates.

No, this was different.

Images of the previous night flicker in the back of her mind– the tremor of her muscles, the flutter of her eyelids as Mulder’s hands possessed her skin, sliding over her stomach and just above the slight upward curve of her mound, and  _oh, god, what he could do with that sunflower-seed-probing tongue_ – and for the hundredth time today, Scully blushes.

Her gaze is fixed at the silvery sheen of the elevator doors as she waits, hiding the blossoming flush over the skin of her cheeks and chest, when she feels the patter of fingers against her lower back.

Scully turns to see a shy but dazzling smile greet her. “Morning, Scully.”

As if she wasn’t already flushed. Her heart thumps wildly in her chest, and she looks down in embarrassment—to see Mulder holding two Starbucks cups, one held out for her to take.

“What’s this?” She says, her hand curling around the warmth of the cup.

“Your favorite. Chai latte, and, um… A shot of espresso.” Scully chances her eyes up at him, and his own gaze is now fixed on their feet. She realizes he’s as nervous as she is.

“Oh, Mulder…” Her other hand reaches out to the fingers he’s got gripped over his own drink, and Mulder gives her a small smile. “Thank you.”

He shrugs lightly. “Figure it’d be better than the stuff in the office,” he replies. The doors to the elevator finally open, and the hand on her lower back presses further into her suit jacket as they enter.

The elevator empties out until it’s just the two of them, and Scully sips lightly at her latte. After the doors close, they look at each other at the same time, and both look away as quickly.

She can’t help it. She lets out an amused chuckle.

“What’s funny?” Mulder inquires, but when she looks up at him, he’s smiling back.

Scully just shakes her head. “You’d think we were sixteen-year olds on their first date,” she smirks. “It’s a little bizarre.”

“Well, Scully, it is an interesting situation. We’ve known each other for seven years, yet it took that long for me to finally get you into bed, so it’s understandable that you’re just waiting for your moment to pull me into a janitor’s closet and have your way with me again.”

She bursts out laughing and gives him a light shove as the doors open. “Oh my god, Mulder.”

He smiles at her as they walk to their office: “Hey, I can’t help it that I’m irresistible,” he jokes.

She laughs again. “Shut up, Mulder.”

*******

She hates it when he’s right.

The butterflies in her stomach and the heavy ache lying just below doesn’t waver all morning as they focus on paperwork that’s gone undone over the previous month. Scully can barely focus, especially when Mulder sheds his jacket and rolls up his sleeves—as he writes, she catches the ripple of sinew under his forearm and, _oh—she watches him slide his fingers between her legs, the strong flex of his muscle working her from the inside_ —and she barely stifles a gasp before it releases from her mouth. This is going to be a long day.

The only comfort is that Mulder seems to be having the very same problem. She had caught, from the corner of her eye, his gaze on her—his eyes almost absent, but palpable as a predator’s stare—thinking she’s just imagining this, she comes up with an idea.

Bringing her footstool from behind the filing cabinet, she sets it over to the side, in front of one of the higher shelves of books that line the wall. She’d left her favorite pen at home, and the extras were set aside Dostoyevsky and a copy of the DSM.

Scully steps up onto the stool, one hand on the top of the filing cabinet for leverage, and reaches up for the box of pens. She curses when her fingers barely reach the edge of the shelf.

She looks over to Mulder, preparing to admit defeat and ask his help in reaching the shelf, but he’s much quicker than she gives him credit for.

She doesn’t have the foresight to stop the gasp as she feels both of his hands curl over her hips, and he steps up onto the footstool with her. One of his feet step between her heels, and the brush of his leg between hers, clad in only thin stockings, sends a wonderful shiver up her spine.

“Let me get that.” His breath is hot over her ear, his hands large and erotic and— _Christ, she should have brought another pair of panties_ —his fingers are sliding over hers to reach up the cabinet.

Mulder sets the box of pens in her hand, and his grip finds her waist again.

“Thank you,” she says shakily. His nose brushes under her ear. An illicit noise escapes her throat.

“I… Mulder…” She tries to protest.

“I know. Probably not a good idea, in the office and all.” Her inner muscles clench at the the deep alto of his voice.

Scully nods. “Y-yes, we’re… in the office…”

He gives her a light squeeze and steps down from the stool. She hopes—god, she _prays_ —he’s going to shut and lock the door, advance on her like a starved animal—but he just moves back to his desk. As she steps off the footstool herself, she’s disappointed, but she tells herself it’s for the best.

Then, Mulder taps his watch, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. “You wanna grab some lunch?”

Scully near sighs in relief at the welcome distraction. “Sure.”

***********

On the way to the corner street diner, Mulder stops at a magazine kiosk to buy a copy of _Sports Illustrated._  An issue of _Cosmopolitan_ catches Scully’s eye, and a positively evil idea forms in her head; she’s not big on magazines, but this one may prove to be dangerously thrilling for what she has planned, so she pays the kiosk owner and ignores the curious glance Mulder gives her.

At the diner, they opt for their usual booth—one that isn’t often empty, but Scully is quite happy to find vacant. She unbuttons her suit jacket, slips it off, and barely hides her smirk at the sight of Mulder’s eyes nearly leaving his head.

She wore a white, sleeveless blouse, just sheer enough to not only clearly see the black lace bra underneath—but in the mirror, she’d noticed that, if she looked closely enough, she could even see the lace patterning of the garment. She was pretty sure Mulder was noticing this, too, as well as the buttons that she’d _forgotten_ to slip closed at the top of the blouse.

After they order, Scully flips the issue of _Cosmopolitan_ open, making sure to look mostly disinterested at the articles inside, other than the quick locating of the page number of the article that caught her eye.

Mulder’s copy of _Sports Illustrated_ sits unopened as he continues to scan the contents of the menu, desperately trying to keep his eyes from his partner—or, his partner’s choice in clothing, anyway. He’s sure that if she doesn’t put her jacket back on soon, he can’t be responsible for his coming actions. He quietly adjusts his sitting position, his slouch on the hard bench suddenly having become very uncomfortable.

“Hey look, Scully,” he speaks up, hoping to take his mind off of what he would _really_ like to be doing (or who). “They have apple pie.”

Scully looks up from her magazine. “Oh yeah? We could get a slice after lunch if you want.”

He’s sure he had a reply formed on his lips, but it dies before he has the chance to begin. Scully has slipped a stockinged foot from her black pumps and is now running her toes up and down his calf.

“I—” Mulder attempts to ignore it, but his stutter says otherwise. The front of his pants tighten even further, Scully doesn’t even look up from her _Cosmo,_ and her face betrays no knowledge of his suffering.

Just then, their food arrives. Mulder is deeply grateful when Scully’s foot returns to her side of the booth as she sits up to push aside her magazine and begin dressing her salad.

They eat in companionable silence, and Mulder gives a relieved sigh as his arousal begins to tamper down. _Just gotta hold out for another four or five hours_ , he thinks. After that, all bets are off. He _absolutely_ plans to get her back for teasing him with that _deliciously_ see through top, the black bra—not to mention the deliberate little moves she’d made over the morning that had her playing coy, but Mulder knew better.

Scully finishes her salad first and pushes it aside, giving a light sip at her iced tea. She pulls her magazine back in front of her on the table.

“My god,” she comments.

Mulder takes the bait. “Whatcha readin’?”

“’How to Have a 15 Minute Orgasm’—how is that even possible without some sort of brain damage?—” she continues on even as he chokes slightly on a bite of his turkey club— “Seriously, Mulder, that could probably kill a person.”

Once Mulder finally returns to his senses, he plops the last bite of sandwich into his mouth and swallows before replying. “I don’t know, Scully,” _two can play at this game_ , “I wouldn’t be too quick to rule it out. Maybe you could use a fifteen minute orgasm.”

 _Shit, shit, shit. Foot, meet mouth._ He raises his eyes to her, ready to offer an apology.

Scully just raises her eyebrow. “And who do you propose help me achieve that goal, Mulder?” Her voice drops low.

“I… uh…” _He’s so cute when he’s nervous,_ she thinks.

The moment is severed as the waitress approaches their table. Mulder finally takes a breath, and sets down a few bills to cover their meal.

On the walk back to the office, they make small talk, but Mulder is distracted. Not by the events at the diner, or in the office earlier, or even the jacket that Scully had yet to pull back on—no, he’s got something _far_ better to think about.

He deliberately takes the long way around, and Scully notices where they’re headed. “Mulder, this back area is closed off for maintenance, remember?”

Mulder skids to a halt, turning around halfway so he’s facing her. He looks over each shoulder, noting the empty area.

“Yeah, I remember.”

He grabs her hand, ducking them into the unoccupied janitor’s closet that’s seen better days and shuts the door behind them, flicks on the lightswitch next to the door, and then lightly shoves Scully into the wall, his mouth hard against her pink, breathless lips.

“Mulder,” she giggles against his lips as he dips down to yank her skirt up and hook his arms under her knees, bringing her thighs tight around his waist. “Oh, Mulder, we’re gonna get caught,” she whimpers, but grinds her hips into his, smirking as she comes in contact with his hard-on.

“Then we’re gonna get caught,” he replies, his teeth now scraping hard under her jaw. “I don’t give a fuck, Scully. Right now, I think I may lose my mind if I don’t get to fuck you.”

Scully moans breathlessly, and her hands shove his jacket to the floor then fumble with his tie and the buttons of his shirt.

“You’ve been planning this all morning, haven’t you, Scully?” He growls into the slope of her neck, his hands now pulling at her blouse. “This fucking top, the _black lace_ —you’ve wanted me to bend you over my desk and fill your tight little pussy since the moment you got here.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Scully positively _whines_ in his ear.

Mulder finally pops the last button of her shirt out of its hole and shoves both sides over her shoulders. She pulls him back to her mouth, their teeth clacking hard against one another’s, and her hands begin work at his belt buckle.

“You like that, don’t you?” Mulder says between nips at a hardened, lace-covered nipple. “You like when I talk to you like that? When I tell you what I want to do to you?”

“Yes,” she hisses in reply. His next words are halted when her fingers slip down beneath his boxers— _when the hell did she get his pants off—_ and her nails scratch lightly against his cock.

“Fuck, Scully,” He moves to push the fabric of her tight skirt up over her hips. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he says, glancing down at her as his hand dips between her legs—he moans again, a deep rumble in his chest, when he sees what she’s hidden under her skirt.

Her panties match her bra, and thigh-high stockings come to a stop just above her knees with a sliver of lace. The barely-there material that covers her pussy glistens wet in the dim overhead light, as well as the insides of her thighs.

“Jesus,” he says. His cock twitches against her fingers, and his own find the damp fabric of her panties. She moans, jumps down from his waist to slip the ruined undergarment from her hips, and wraps her thighs back around him before he can take another breath.

Mulder’s fingers slip deeply along her slick clit while his other hand moves his cock to her entrance. “God, Mulder…” Scully grinds against the head of him, trying desperately to pull him inside.

“Tell me,” he says.

She moans. “I want you inside me,” her voice is frantic.

But Mulder won’t give in that easily: “My fingers?” He asks her, still slipping his cock along the slit between her legs. She whimpers in frustration. “Tell me, Scully.”

“Your cock. I want your cock inside me. I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe.”

His hips jerk forward and he thrusts hard inside her. She yelps, her nails scraping against his skull. Mulder pulls her hard against him, one hand slipping up under her knee to pin it against her chest, and he slams into her again, his hips sparking a frantic rhythm.

“Fuck,” he breathes hard, watching his cock disappear and reappear from her, coated thick with her come. “Fuck, Scully. You feel so fucking good.”

Her throat is emitting the most delicious, _filthy_ noises as he pounds into her, and she’s so wet that the smack of her cunt drawing him deeper into her nearly drowns out both of their moans. Mulder watches as her fine, manicured fingers come down over her clit, protruding harshly from between her folds. His own fingers tighten on her thighs as he watches himself fuck her, the way her pussy pulls at his cock on each outward thrust, and he barely holds on.

“God, fuck—ungh!” Scully lets out a strangled cry, and suddenly the muscles inside her are squeezing so tightly around him, he slips out of her.

But her nails are digging _hard_ into the base of his skull, her voice is nearly hoarse with her cries, and Mulder watches her pussy, now empty of him, pulse rapidly with the force of her orgasm.

“God damn,” Mulder slips back into her clenching muscles before her orgasm has subsided, and he gives one, two, three short thrusts—all he can manage with how fucking _tight_ she is around him—and his teeth clamp down over her shoulder, a shout releasing from his chest as he comes hotly inside her. His knees give out as he comes back to himself, and they sit slumped against the wall for several minutes as they catch their breath.

Scully is the first one to move, and she slips her hands over his face to pull his mouth back to hers. They kiss languidly for a short moment, and then breathlessly pull apart.

“Oh my god, Mulder,” she licks her lips. “I think that was by far the hottest sex I’ve ever had.”

He huffs in a laugh. “Jesus, me too. You think next time we can try for that fifteen minutes?”

She smiles against his lips. “Absolutely.” Her mouth comes down hot on his lips again before pulling back. “But definitely _not_ in the Hoover building, because I think I was probably loud enough to scare the whole office and I’m sure we’re probably about to be fired.”

Mulder chuckles. “Well, hey—was it worth it?”

“Well, duh.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was declined by a friend on Tumblr, and I picked it up for her. Trigger warning for breathplay/choking. Spoilers for season 7's Orison:
> 
> my prompt is breath play. Specifically Scully liking to have her throat lightly squeezed by Mulder. I feel like Scully never asked this of anyone because she never trusted anyone enough for this. But she loves and trusts Mulder completely. I never ever read a fic like that and it's a kink of mine... Thanks so much in advance!

 

It’s the middle of the night and you awake to a slight weight above you, small hands threading through the hairs over your heart and warm breath against your ear.

When you get your bearings, your hands are in her hair, reaching up to lace the liquid heat of her tongue through yours. It was embarrassing to discover how quick Scully could make your heart race and blood rush south by just kissing her. Really, you should have known. Oftentimes just the sound of her voice could make you hang up the phone and head to the nearest bathroom, and pray you could slouch at just the right angle so no one could notice how hard you were.

She’s writhing against you, on top of you, and she’s not wearing a stitch of clothing. You can feel the damp heat through your boxers, and it makes you nearly growl as you reverse your positions and toss her down on the sheets.

The boxers are dealt with, and you return to the sanctuary of her body; all four limbs wrapping around you, pulling you closer. She moans hot into your mouth as you fill her completely, and the desperation of her nails raking lines down your skin tells you she doesn’t want anything about this tonight to be gentle.

Your hands wrap under both of her kneecaps and bring her calves against the skin over your ribs. The angle that gives you as your thrusts grow harder makes her pull her mouth from yours and gasp. Your hands move over her skin, and you tip her jaw toward the headboard to taste the salt and sweat on her neck. Then your hand begins to move downward, but she stops you with her small fingers gripping your wrist.

The movement of your hips falter as she meets your stare and brings your fingers over her neck again– but she angles your thumb to one side so that your hand envelops her throat.

This makes you still completely, but her hips grind yours as her hand tightens over your fingers. Yet, even in the assurance of her gaze, you still hesitate.

“Scully–” your voice cuts off. It’s only been two weeks since you stood in her living room, Donnie Pfaster dead at your feet, and pried the gun– the one whose trigger still clicked slowly under her finger, though the bullets had long run out and Pfaster’s lifeless body was already beginning to shut down– from her trembling hands. She flinches, almost as if you’d shared the flashback, but her resignation holds strong.

“Just… Not too tight,” she tells you, her voice softer than the dim lighting of the city outside. You wait a beat– you just have to make sure– until her hands find your hips and urge you on.

You find a steadier support as you rise slightly on your knees so your weight doesn’t bear down on the forearm that drapes over her chest. You start slowly, but the sting of her fingernails starts again, and you can’t help but oblige her.

You ignore the rattling headboard against the back wall, instead bringing the world down around the cries that escape her throat. You can feel them vibrate under your palm, and involuntarily, your grip tightens.

“No,” she says, when your hand begins to loosen. “It’s okay.” The muscles inside her flex around you as you put the barest hint of pressure on her windpipe, and you bring your other hand down her body to slip between her folds and bring her closer.

“A little more,” she says, her hand moving over yours again, and you hesitate only a moment before increasing the tension of your fingers. The cry she lets out is strangled from the pressure you’d put around her throat and she’s coming hard, an iron, fluttering grip around your cock, and the shout that releases from your own throat mixes with hers as you fall over the edge with her.

After you’ve both cleaned up and pulled the sheet off the bed (“I didn’t know you could do that, Scully.”), you move over the pillows and pull her warm against your chest. You want to say something, you want to ask what’d brought that on– but she gets there first.

“Thank you,” she punctuates with a lingering kiss on your lips. “I didn’t know if you would be okay with that.”

You look at her tightly. “Were *you* okay with it, Scully?”

She settles down with her cheek against your skin, hair tickling your shoulder. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t want it,” she says meeting your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it, but with the past couple of weeks…” She sucks in a breath. “I didn’t do it for my sake, Mulder. My desire to do that, for you to do that, never faltered. But I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be afraid to. I wanted… To wait until the nightmares had stopped, and until things got back to normal.”

Your hand brushes over her face, pushing the strands of red back to see her fully. “You don’t have to hold anything back from me, Scully.”

“I know,” she says softly, and her eyes close briefly as she presses her lips to your palm. When they open again, the bright blue in her gaze twinkles under the soft light bleeding into the bedroom, and she gives you a small smile. “I know, Mulder.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was given the prompts 'begging' and 'clothes fetish'

 

There’s a lot of things about Mulder that grate Scully’s patience– his gullibility toward the paranormal and supernatural, his tendency to believe the craziest theories even with evidence against said theories, when he leaves dirty clothes on her floor and ‘forgets’ about them later. She’s torn on his ability to rile her up, to make her need to squeeze her crossed thighs together to relieve the tension that can set her on fire in an instant and make her body physically ache for him.

It’s this weakness that has put them into this position again (so to speak). It’s the third time in just the past few weeks that he’s started something while they were at work– and she hadn’t shut him down, because something turned her submissive, let his hands wander and their clothing lift and his fingers or his tongue or his cock (sometimes all three) make their way to the blazing wet heat of her cunt; she would feel near powerless to stop him, and more often, especially recently, she relented much easier to his affections.

Scully never fantasized him taking her over the cold steel of an autopsy table, but hell, there was a first time for everything.

Well, okay, they weren’t technically in an exam room– Mulder had caught her in the employee locker room her right after she’d switched into a pair of scrubs, just before she’d been planning to scrub in and conduct the autopsy for their latest case. What happened between the moment he wandered in (he didn’t say much, she just remembers rambling about something regarding the case, yet watching him openly undress her with his eyes and catching the erection that formed under his clothing) and now, as she bends over the countertop along the sink behind the lockers, shivering slightly at the cold, sterile air meeting her suddenly bare legs and pussy, and then again, as his mouth finds her hot and wet and his hands widen her stance to give him room– well, now she wouldn’t be able to answer anyone when they asked how this began in the first place.

She does remember asking him why he wasn’t listening to her, only watching as she pulled out a pair of white sneakers and socks, then moving over to stop her from putting them on.

“Mulder?” That’s when he’d turned her around, his hands wandering lightly over the one-size-too-small, sky blue nurse’s scrubs, but didn’t answer her. Instead, her silence– and lack of any sign of resistance– pushed him forward, made his touch more confident, and, soon enough, had her naked from the waist down and pressed up against a cold countertop in an empty morgue.

“Mulder…” Now her voice takes on a pleading tone, her throat tight with anticipation as his tongue slips into her wet folds and across her clit.

“I ever tell you how fucking sexy you look in scrubs, Scully?” He says, nipping at her skin as he moves into a standing position behind her. She hears him unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, but his other hand has pulled her against him and slides up to touch her braless chest under her top.

“Mulder, please.” There it is again, her love/hate relationship with his ability to affect her this way– to render her a slave to his touch and his body, to allow her to shut off her mind and let her body to act, and react, accordingly. Now, for instance, the tip of his cock slips between her legs, teasing, as he slides down, circling her clit, spreading her wetness over the both of them.

“What do you want, Scully?”

‘Fuck you, just fuck me,’ she thinks, and nearly says, but instead she only moans again as the head of his cock rubs down along her swollen clit.

“Tell me, Scully,” he won’t relent– she knows this from experience. So she grinds into him, her hand reaching back to slip between his own finger and grasp his cock along with him.

“Now,” she breathes hard as his mouth finds her shoulder, “fuck me, Mulder, fuck me now.”

Her hand is shoved out of the way, and then his cock slides hard into her. They both groan, and Mulder gently bites down on the muscle above her collarbone.

He’s still for a few seconds, presumably letting her adjust– but she’s too hot, her pussy aches too much for release, and she grinds back against him: “Hard, Mulder. I need you to fuck me hard.”

“Fuck,” she hears him grunt against her skin before standing up a little taller and gripping her by the hips. Instead of his usual routine, slipping in and out of her in a slow dance before gradually working her harder until they’re both spent, he only pulls out just slightly and slams back into her, barely allowing her to breathe in between his thrusts. She stretches completely over the countertop, resting her weight on the cold surface, as one hand reaches to grip the side of the counter and the other reaches behind her for him– to pull at his hip, or grip his forearm, whatever she can do to keep hold of him as he fucks her with an urgency that makes her thighs weak– but he grabs both of her wrists and pushes them together, over her head.

“You– stay,” he manages to grunt out, and Scully gasps in response, her hips keeping pace with his as she desperately tries to angle herself so he comes in contact with her clit. She barely is able to graze the tight bundle of nerves against his balls as they slam against her with each thrust; her moans become insistent, to which Mulder catches on quickly: “what do you need, baby?” His lips and hot breath from his mouth against her ear make her shiver again.

“Touch me,” she near growls, “god, fuck, Mulder– please.”

She cries out when his fingers do make contact with her throbbing clit, and she’s not that surprised at how quickly her orgasm rushes over her after his fingers and cock work hard into and against her– but when it does, she gasps, and her nails dig into the fingers that still lock her wrists in place. It’s only seconds after she begins coming that he stills inside her, her name tumbling harshly from his lips, his own orgasm rushing over him as her cunt pulses tight around him in quick waves.

It’s after her head is cleared, that they’ve both come and cleaned themselves up and put their clothes back into place, that she thinks she should tell him they should stop having sex during work hours. She dismisses the thought pretty quickly once she realizes how futile it would probably be.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: coming untouched (I bent the rules a bit though)

Oftentimes, Mulder has wondered, while trapped in staff meetings, or lying awake at night– victim to insomnia and his own thoughts– places he’d rather be. Sometimes it’s as simple as wishing he were only back in their basement office, discussing or maybe debating a case, or just hoping he could fall asleep soon enough to get at least a few hours before the alarm clock goes off.

Many, many times, more than he can count, his fantasies have included Scully– only, those were imaginations he never, in a million years, would have thought were possible.

He thinks now, as he struggles to keep her still underneath him on his leather couch, her mouth hot on his, that there’s *definitely* nowhere he’d rather be right now.

As his fingers finally slip past the tight, form fitting tank top Scully has on (and nothing more than a pair of small cotton panties) he begins to realize why she’s squirming against him so insistently; he feels the heat against his stomach, between her legs with just a thin layer of cloth keeping him from truly feeling how wet she really is, and he forms an idea.

She moans when he pulls away, reaching back up to continue their kiss, but Mulder has other plans. He pulls the tank top up, and Scully leans forward as much as she can to help him rid the garment from her body. Then, he slides down and angles his arm underneath her, his hand spread around her hip, and his bicep between her legs; he brings himself to lay over her again, his mouth reaching for the tight, pink tip of her breast, and she lets out another moan when his tongue and teeth finally catch her nipple. She’s grinding against the rigid muscle that sits against her sex, flexing and pressing harder as he kisses along her chest and his teeth lightly catch on her skin.

“That’s it,” he praises, bending down so his mouth is just under her ear now, “come on, Scully, let me hear you come, right now, just like this,” and he pressed harder against her, but he doesn’t need to, because her muscles go tense beneath him and she cries out, grinding herself harder against him as she’s overcome.

After the tension releases from her body, his arm slides out from underneath her. Scully wraps her thighs around his hips, pushing up against him, and says, “You’re gonna pay for that,” as if she’s actually mad he made her come so soon. He just chuckles, slipping his arms around her as he lets her push him backward to lie on the other side of the couch.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Might rewrite this at a later time, it was written pretty hasty and I'm unsure if I want to reread it just yet
> 
> First time fic, set s6 or 7 (you choose)
> 
> Prompt was from the lovely storybycorey (go read her work if you haven't, it's A+):
> 
> "What makes you hot, Scully? What makes you absolutely crazy?"

It’s the Fourth of July, and somehow they’ve ended up at Hains Point in the Potomac for the fireworks show. The sun is almost set, and from where they sit, far off from the rest of the crowd, they share a bottle of champagne and wait for the first sparks of color to scatter across the sky.

The question catches her off guard.

She lets out a nervous chuckle, feeling the flush warm her skin along with the champagne they’ve been sharing for the past hour. Scully nervously scans the sparse crowd of people ahead of them, though she knows they’re too far away for anyone to even be able to recognize them, let alone overhear.

“I… Mulder,” she blushes, ducking her head in embarrassment, but she’s grinning through the sudden shyness the question brings.

“Oh come on, Scully,” he nudges her shoulder with his own. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Besides, I may very well be too drunk at this point to remember your answer anyway, so it’ll be like I never knew.”

Scully knows he isn’t drunk. She, however, is finishing her fourth glass of champagne, and has a slightly nauseating flashback of a similar scene as the one she’s in now, only a few years prior and with someone who wasn’t really her partner.

But he is her partner, and Scully decides she just might like to leave him speechless, since he likes to talk so damn much anyways…

“Well…” Scully clears her throat. “It’s kind of odd but I like when I’m touched on my bare stomach, or over my ribs. And I don’t mean just stroked, I mean feather-light caresses… So light that you can barely feel it.” She smiles. “Trail your fingers just slightly over my sides or low on my belly and I start to get wet in seconds.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have said that while Mulder was mid-sip of his champagne, but she’s too busy cackling at his reaction to care. He coughs and sputters, the liquid dripping over his chin and onto his shirt.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Scully, warn a guy, would you?” He wipes at his mouth. “Seriously, woman, are you trying to kill me here?”

Reaching in the backpack across the other side of the blanket they spread out on, Scully brings forth a stack of napkins. “Oh, come on,” she says through the remnants of her giggles, and proceeds to dab the napkin over Mulder’s face and chest.

She quiets, focusing on cleaning up the spilled champagne, then after discarding them looks back to her suddenly silent partner.

His eyes are dark against the streetlamps nearby, and when the first fireworks streak across the sky behind her, she only notices how it illuminates Mulder’s face. His eyes are almost black.

“Show me,” he says.

Scully just barely hears him over the cacophony of explosions in the park.

“… Show you what, Mulder?” She’s shocked to hear and feel her voice tremble.

But Mulder doesn’t hesitate. “How to touch you.”

She doesn’t move for a few seconds– not out of hesitation, but because of the deep shudder that threatens her bones. He doesn’t even have to touch her at this point. Her pussy has already begun to throb.

Finally, Scully moves closer to him, taking his hands in hers as she rises up on her knees, smoothing down the skirt of her summer dress. She doesn’t break eye contact with him as she straddles his thighs.

“Like this.” She moves his hands to her bare knees, and slowly begins to guide them underneath the flowing edges of her skirt.

Their mouths are inches apart, and Mulder moves to kiss her– but she stops him with a finger to his lips.

“Not yet. Touch me first.”

And so she maneuvers his fingers underneath her dress, guiding them to her waist. Scully let’s go then, and he feels a feathery, almost ticklish caress over his wrist.

“Like this,” she breathes into his ear. “Use the four fingers right along my sides. Start here,” she guides his fingers down, and hears Mulder’s breath hitch as they brush the lace of her panties.

His right hand flits out from under her dress to grab her chin and pull her to him– but he doesn’t kiss her. Their lips graze lightly, and neither one of them move closer or away. The fireworks continue, somewhere far away.

Mulder moves both hands back under her dress, low on her hips, and his fingertips slide up along her skin, feather light.

Scully moans loud, and her back arches into him as their mouths meet hard and open against the others’. Mulder pulls her hard against him, and his erection makes itself known by rubbing into the sodden fabric of her underwear.

Her hands are not idle. She knows this is a stupid, stupid thing to do. They’re in public, for Christ sakes. But her fingers are pulling at the button on his jeans, yanking at the zipper and moving his undergarments out of the way, and she doesn’t give a fuck if someone sees because she needs him inside of her, right now.

Scully only breaks the kiss to rise up on her knees; gripping the back of his neck, her other hand pushes aside her panties. Mulder meets her in the middle, and guides his thickness into the throbbing heat of her cunt.

They’re not quiet, but neither are the fireworks.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut prompt: "If you keep dancing like that I'm going to come in my pants"

The club is packed, the lights flickering with the deep bass in the music, and Scully is wiggling her ass against his near painful erection.

His hands grip her waist and he tends to her level: "Pretty sure our boss and half of LA is watching you dance right now, Scully," he growls into her ear. "And to be honest, if you keep dancing like that I'm gonna come in my pants in front of this entire club."

Scully gives a subtle glance at her surroundings, noting that her boss (along with Wayne Federman and his movie-star posse) are, in fact, in view of the absolute solicitation she's performing on her partner at the moment-- but they seem engaged in conversation, not the near-lap dance she's giving Mulder at the moment.

She pulls his head down gently so he can hear her. "They're not paying us any attention," she breathes in his ear. "Mulder, we're packed so tight in here that I doubt anyone would notice if you fucked me right here on the dance floor."

She feels him freeze behind her, and turns her head to see the look of absolute astonishment on his face (and something more animal, something that sends a chill up her spine and a heat pool between her legs). She giggles, though, drunk on vodka and Mulder.

"Did I say something?" She says.

"I fucking love you, do you know that?"

"Mm, then touch me." At that, she grabs his hand and runs it down between her legs.

"Scully," he says, reverence in his voice.

She keeps her eyes open, vigilant, as Mulder pulls the skirt of her dress higher. She scratches his cheek lightly, and a breathy moan escapes her throat when he dips his fingers into the dampness coating her cunt.

The music and the alcohol make her skin vibrate. Mulder does, too, as he slips his finger along her clit.

"God, you drive me crazy, you know that?" He scrapes his teeth along the line of her jaw. "Do you know how goddamn sexy you are, Scully? How many times I thought about bending you over our desk and fucking you until you scream loud enough for the whole Hoover building?"

The coil inside her snaps, and she's coming in his arms, in the middle of the dance floor.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "if I pull over, you aren't going to be able to walk for a week"

“Scully.”

Silence.

“Scully.”

She pretends not to hear him. Her stocking-clad foot is in his lap, rubbing him to a steady throbbing. She’s pretending to read the casefile in her lap.

“Scully, I swear to God, if I have to pull over you aren’t going to be able to walk for a week.”

That gets her attention. Her calf stills on his thigh.

“Then pull over.”

——-

She’s become one with the backseat. He’ll have to peel her from the cool leather by the time they’re done.

There’s not much room for them, but he makes it work– she’s sprawled over the car seat, his hands are bruising her hips, he’s fucking her into another dimension.

“Scully, you’re— god damn, you’re so fucking sexy,” he growls into the stagnant air of the car. The windows are fogged. She whines, low in her throat. Her hand reaches back to grab his, and she places it around her neck.

“Fuck,” Mulder groans. He grabs her, hard, throwing her belly down onto the bottom of the backseat, and squeezes her tiny throat as he fucks her deep into the leather.

She moans and he feels it under his palm. His other hand brushes her hair back, his mouth at the back of her neck, as he straddles her harder. 

“God, yes, Mulder, please–” she moans, high-pitched under her arousal and his grip. “Fuck me just like that, fuck me hard–”

His fingers, splayed over her head, twist into her hair and yank lightly. She nearly screams.

“You like this? You like when I fuck you like this, Scully?”

He feels her squirm a hand down between her legs, and breathes into her ear as his hips come down hard against her. “Oh, God, Scully that’s it– are you gonna come for me? You gonna be a good girl and come?”

“Fuck!” That was a scream. Her pussy clenches hard around him and he feels a hot gush of liquid coat him.

“Fuck yes, that’s it, Scully, that’s a good girl–” his hand tightens around her throat, ever so slightly, as he comes with a harsh exhale.

They lay against the leather for a few minutes, catching their breath. 

“That was without a doubt the hottest sex of my life,” Mulder says out of nowhere. Scully giggles underneath him. Still inside her, his softening cock twitches ever so slightly.

“I can’t believe you like it so rough, Scully,” he says, kissing her hair.

“Oh come on, it can’t be that big of a surprise.”

They start to move, helping each other unstick from the black leather. Mulder hands her her blouse.

“Okay, no. Not a big surprise. Definitely a nice surprise.”

She grins at him, slipping her blouse over her head. “Well Mulder, maybe if you’re really good, you’ll get an encore of that soon.”

Scully begins to crawl back over the front seat, but winces. “Okay, maybe not soon. Maybe in like, a week.”

He chuckles. “My mission here is complete.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut prompt "don't give me that look"

“Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?”

“You know what look.”

His pout deepens.

“Mulder–”

“Come on, Scully, we’ve wrapped up the case. Technically we’re not on assignment anymore,” he takes her hand, and she only mildly protests as he pulls her to the bed. He presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her pulse– smiles when her breath hitches– and runs his hands over her waist, along her silk blouse.

She lets him tongue her throat, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders, and within moments her resolve breaks and her knees grow weak.

“Okay.”

—————

He delights in the sounds she makes. In the way her body writhes– under his hands, straddling his thighs, underneath his body. He’s constantly amazed she wants him as much as she does, that she gets searing hot and dripping wet under his touch in only minutes. She comes like a supernova; expanding, contracting inside a bright lit, scattered-star galaxy, until finally her own celestial coloring permeates the room and she’s left breathless against his sex-dewed skin.

By the time he enters her, her limbs and breath quiver from her previous three (a record that Mulder definitely wants to break at every opportunity) orgasms. Her nails are sharp against his shoulder blades, thighs tense and trembling around his hips, and her cunt slick and tight around his cock. He won’t last long.

“Deeper,” she says, in that breathy moan of hers. He complies, raising her calves and angling her hips, just right–

“Oh, fuck,” she cries, and her pussy clamps hard around him, and her head is thrown back into the sheets, mouth open, red hair splaying across the white sheets–

He doesn’t make it to number four, because the sight of her below him, his own personal astronomical event, sends him off. He collapses against her and threads his hands in her hair.

“Sorry about that,” he whispers against her skin. “Rain check?”

Scully kisses him sweetly, pulling the cooling sheets over their overheated bodies. She nods, giving him a gentle smile. “Rain check.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scully buys Mulder flowers

There’s a vase of pink and white camellias on his desk when he enters their office.

“Um. Hey Scully?”

She appears from the back room, not looking up from the paperwork in her hands. “Did you file the report for the McCleben case yet? I might have a few notes to add, if not,” she says nonchalantly.

“I was about to send it to Skinner,” he answers, then waves at the flowers. “Where’d the camillias come from?”

“I’m surprised you know what they are, Mulder,” she says, passing him to lay claim to his chair. Something stirs when he sees the challenge in the look she gives him as she sits.

“My mother loved them. From what I remember, they represent desire and passion. Did one of the secretaries from upstairs send these?” He fingers the delicate petals.

“Nope.”

“… Scully.”

She smirks at him, and he flashes back to the night before, the light grin on her face after she’d come apart in his arms, in his bed for the first time.

“They’re from you?” He asks, incredulous.

“Your detective skills are subpar, Mulder.”

He wants to wipe the grin off her face, and does by pulling her out of her chair and tight against him. “Who knew you were such a romantic?” Mulder tips her chin and presses a sweet kiss to her lips. “What’d ya say? Wanna christen our office finally?”

She giggles, and he thinks there’s actual butterflies in his stomach. She kisses him a little deeper, a little sweeter, and pats his tie.

“Tonight.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from the lovely wtfmulder:  
> Mulder and Scully are nervous about their relationship changing, so they get really drunk on their first date (on accident) and very, very handsy.

It’s been too long. Neither of them are good at this anymore.

So they drink.

They’ve long finished their meals, and now they awkwardly fumble for conversation as Mulder fills their wine glasses. He’s feeling tipsy already, and from the light slur in Scully’s voice, he knows she’s feeling similar.

All night, they’ve caught glimpses at each other, anticipation of the night to come as well as excitement in the looks they’re finally able to give one another. More than once, a flush has flowered Scully’s cheeks and chest, and Mulder didn’t even attempt to hide the way his eyes followed the blood blossoming under her skin.

“So,” she begins, and his eyes dart back to hers, feeling like a teenager caught groping himself in the locker rooms. She smirks at him. “Mulder, this has been wonderful.”

He smiles, determined to rid himself of his own nervous energy. “I’d have to agree, Scully. Thank you for letting me take you out finally,” he nudges her shoulder. They’re sitting in a table booth, but instead of sitting across from one another as they always had before while grabbing a bite to eat, Scully slid into the booth at the beginning of the night and held out her hand to him. He surely wasn’t going to refuse.

Scully mock-gasps. “Letting you take me out? Mulder, it took you six years to even ask,” she smiles at him. Her voice, dripping low and sultry with the merlot they’ve been drinking, makes his cock twitch. Her eyes sparkle at him.

“Okay, yeah,” he relents with a grin. His hand finds hers on top of the table booth, and she plays with his fingers, running her own fingernails across his palm. She turns toward him further, her knee nudging into his thigh.

They sit like this, whisper-drunk as they talk, for a few minutes. Scully continues to scratch her nails against his skin; soon she’s slipped delicate fingertips under his sleeve, and Mulder has to take his suit coat off to drape it over his lap. She hides a grin behind her hand.

“Tell me something,” she says to him, the alcohol in her blood beginning to warm her skin under the crimson of her dress. She can now slide her fingers up along his arm, gently fingering the hair laid out over muscle.

Her gaze is burning him. They’re only inches apart, her breath sweet and wine-drenched on his lips. He brings their hands down below the table, down to finger the hem of her dress; his palm is hot against her bare knee.

“Like what?” Mulder replies, quiet, lost in the intoxication of the alcohol but mostly, the woman before him.

“How long have you wanted me?” Her voice has changed again, and he recognizes it in the darkened color of her eyes. Needy. Wanton.

He doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol, or the way Scully moves his hand further up her thigh. Doesn’t know if he does what he does because she’s breathing heavy, her chest heaving underneath his gaze. She begins to slip her calf over his knee, flushing with anticipation.

He pulls his hand from her thigh, slides a finger under her chin and kisses her.

Her hands fly to his chest, and he fights the urge to groan when she fully drapes a thigh over his own. He tastes their dinner and the bittersweetness of wine on her small tongue, and he pulls her closer. Scully whimpers.

“Mulder, I want you to touch me,” she gasps against his teeth. He pulls back, surprised at her sudden brazenness.

“Here?” He breathes against her lips, his arm sliding around her middle to pull her close. She lifts a leg up onto the seat to wedge between his waist and the leather, and pulls him closer. He chances a worried look over his shoulder, but the restaurant is dimly lit and their booth is settled in a corner away from most of the other diners.

“Mulder…” She moans, squeezing his middle with the solid of her thighs. “Mulder, I’m drunk, and I’ve been waiting for you to touch me for seven years,” she kisses him, her mouth open and tongue sweet, and pulls back again: “And I’m so fucking wet I can’t leave this booth until you touch me.”

“Jesus Christ, Scully,” he’s not sure he’ll make it out of the booth himself, so he slips a hand between her legs.

She stifles a moan as the warm tips of his fingers delve under her panties. Mulder nearly gasps when he comes into contact with the drenched cotton.

“Fuck,” he pulls her closer, his mouth finding the pulse at her neck and nipping gently. “Fuck, Scully.”

She muffles a whimper against her own hand as his fingers slick through her wet folds. “Yes, fuck, yes.”

“Tell me how you want it, Scully,” his tongue is hot against her throat.

“Your fingers,” she gasps, gripping him by the hair to taste him once more. She breathes hard against his lips: “fuck me with your fingers.”

He obliges, slipping two digits knuckle-deep into the dripping embers of her cunt. She kisses him to stay quiet.

Later, she’ll come in his arms and flush so deeply with embarrassment that she let this happen, in a slightly-crowded restaurant, she let him finger-fuck her in front of God knows who saw, and it was only their first date. They hadn’t even ended the damn date, and she acted like an animal in heat. She fumbles to the bathroom to clean up, mumbling to him, her humiliation hitting her harder than the orgasm did, now that she’s sobered up.

But when she exits the bathroom, Mulder is standing there with her coat.

“Did– did you get the bill?” She stutters. She can’t look at him.

“Yeah.”

She just nods. “O-okay,” and begins to slip into her jacket when she feels his fingers under her chin. She wants to cry in embarrassment at his gaze.

“Scully, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he tells her, and she’d wonder if his mind reading capabilities had returned before realizing no, Dana, this man just knows you. She shakes her head against his words and her thoughts.

“I just made you touch me in a public restaurant, God, Mulder, I practically fucking threw myself at you–”

“And it was the single hottest, most incredible thing I’ve ever seen you do, Scully,” he says. “That you wanted me that badly will be the subject of my dreams for the rest of my life.”

“I didn’t want to… Start things that way,” she admits.

“I’m sorry if it wasn’t what you’d hoped for, Scully,” he tells her, his hands coming up to frame her face. “But let me take you home and make it up to you. Let me show you exactly how much I loved what just happened, and maybe give it a few reenactments.”

She blinks back her tears, looking up at him. Finally, she lets herself smile.

“Only if I can repay the favor,” she smirks at him.

Mulder grins. He leans down to kiss her, a slow, sweet promise of things to come. “Deal,” he says, and they make their way out of the restaurant.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First time, Mulder initiates or Scully initiates

45 minutes. That’s how long she’s been sitting in her car, a bottle of vodka between her legs. That’s how long she’s been working up the nerve to go up to his door and finally break the thick knot of tension that’s been festering between them for the entire seven years they’ve been partners. The vodka is supposed to help, but the more she drinks, the more she wonders if it’s a good idea.

She reached under her seat for an old pack of Marlboros she’d stashed. Taps it, upside down, against her wrist a few times. Instead of retrieving one, though, Scully tosses the pack into her jacket pocket and gets out of the car.

Her balance isn’t so great, thanks to the alcohol, but she’s grateful she’d changed into tennis shoes prior to leaving for his apartment; not to mention the tight pair of black exercise pants and the sheer white T-shirt under her black coat. She didn’t want to look desperate, but she at least wanted him to look twice.

She brings the bottle of vodka with her. She might need it.

When she gets to his door, the severity of what she’s about to do begins to sober her quicker than she’d planned. She leans against the door frame. Instead of turning and running, which is what most of her wants to do, she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and knocks.

When he answers, she hears him comment on the bottle in her hand, and her obvious inebriation. She doesn’t listen to him, though, doesn’t answer him, and instead, she pushes past him into his kitchen.

She says nothing as she sets the bottle down on his kitchen table. She sheds her jacket, hanging it over a chair next to the bottle, and begins to kick off her shoes. Or tries to, anyway.

“Scully? Have you heard anything I’ve said?” Mulder appears next to her, and she grabs onto his bicep for balance.

“No,” she says simply. Finally, she gets her shoes off, and then reaches down to pair them together nicely, setting them under the chair where her coat hangs. When she stands, she wobbles a little, and Mulder settles her equilibrium with his hands on her waist.

At his touch, she looks up. She’s always so surprised at how tall he really is, when she’s not donning a pair of three inch heels– even then, there’s a noticeable difference in their heights.

“You okay?” He asks her, his hands moving to her shoulders.

“Mhm,” she replies. Her own fingers begin to skim up his chest, the muscles under her palms twitching at her light touch. Mulder grabs her wrists gently.

“Scully, you’re drunk,” he states.

“Mhm,” she says again. Then, she brings her hands up to the back of his neck, reaches up as far as she can on her toes, and she kisses him.

He’s hard and soft in all the right places, and she knows she has him when his tongue comes out to play with hers. Against his better judgement, he reaches down and curls his fingers around her ass, and pulls her up into his arms. Her thighs wrap tight around his waist and, _oh_ , he feels so fucking good between her legs.

After a minute or two, the air quiet underneath their quickening breath and the light moans she emits– if she were sober, she’d be embarrassed, but she just can’t stop– he sets her down on the kitchen table and takes a step back. She prepared for this, for the arguments of _we can’t do this_ and _you’re too drunk_ and _what if we regret this later_ , so she just leans back on her hands and meets his stare.

But Mulder, instead of voicing reasons why they shouldn’t do this, just steps between her knees and reaches behind her to the bottle of vodka. She watches as he takes a large gulp, and then he passes the bottle to her. She takes a light sip and sets the bottle back down on the table.

Mulder leans into her, his hands on the table outside both of her thighs. His mouth is inches from hers when he speaks.

“You want this, Scully?” He asks. Her thighs squeeze his hips in a quick pulse. If he doesn’t fuck her, she thinks she might have to lock herself in his bathroom just so she can get off. There’s no way she’s leaving his apartment until she does.

She huffs, laughter bubbling in her chest. “Mulder, you have no idea.”

His hands begin to slip up her thighs, over the soft cotton and polyester of her yoga pants. “Yeah?” He moves closer to her mouth.

She’s feeling braver by the second, especially when she feels him unconsciously grind his very hard cock into the inside of her thigh. “If you knew how many times I wanted to throw you down and ride you until you couldn’t walk, you’d have fucked me a long time ago, Mulder.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Scully,” he replies, his large hands beginning to grip her thighs.

“You want that, Mulder?” She breathes against his jaw. “You want me to ride your cock right here in your kitchen?”

He makes a gutteral noise, something primal, something she feels deep under her skin. “Maybe later,” he says, and he buries his hand in her hair and is kissing her again, their teeth cracking hard enough to hurt. But she moans in his mouth, and her hands find the hem of his t-shirt and snatch it up over his head. He discards hers, too, and then Scully’s hands are at his jeans, popping open the button and yanking down the zipper before digging her hand beneath them and beneath his boxers to palm the thickness of his cock.

Mulder jerks, and he yanks her hand away from him to push both garments to his ankles. She moves to kiss him again, but he shoves her backwards, and she hisses at the contact of her bare skin on the table. His hands are hot on her thighs, and he yanks her pants and her panties from her hips, taking her socks with them as he pulls them from her feet.

He spreads her thighs and groans. Her pussy glistens, fat and pink and absolutely dripping in the low lighting of his kitchen, and he can’t stop himself from kneeling and shoving his tongue inside her. She cries out, her thighs trying to clamp down over his ears, but his hard grip keeps her spread open as he laps at her. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whines, her head digging into the wood underneath her.

He’s only tasting her, though, and after a few moments he stands again and positions himself at the entrance of her. She sits up halfway, just to unsnap her bra and slide it from her shoulders. She falls back onto the table, her hands reaching for him.

“Now, Mulder, please, fuck me.”

He leans over her, the head of his cock slipping into her wetness, and he wants to pound into her but she’s tight, she’s so _tight_ , and tiny, and he doesn’t want to hurt her, so he inches into her slowly, and watches her gasp each breath, her nails digging into his forearms and his waist as he buries himself in the slick heat of her.

When he can’t go any deeper, he stops, and watches her eyelids flutter as she tries to relax around him. He kisses her, nice and slow, a reprieve from earlier that made both of their teeth ache. She moans in his mouth, wraps her legs around him, and nods almost imperceptibly.

He starts a slow rhythm, one which has her squirming underneath him quickly. “Harder,” she whines. “Mulder, please, fuck me harder.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, and she shakes her head. 

“I want you to,” she breathes. “I want you to really fuck me. Don’t hold back.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he stands, grabs her under her knees and yanks her to the edge of the table. “You asked for it,” he smirks. He pulls out of her slow, and then thrusts back inside her so hard it makes the table squeak against the linoleum. She squeals, and it makes him thrust harder, harder, until he’s pounding into her, the wet smack of them echoing side to side with her moans.

Scully grips the edge of the table, flexing the muscles of her legs against his hands, giving her the momentum to move her hips with his into each thrust. It’s so good, _it’s so fucking good_ , he’s splitting her open and she’s fucking wild with it, and she can’t even think straight, can’t even think at all. She lathes her palm with saliva and slips her hand down between her legs to where they’re joined, spreading her index and middle fingers around his cock. He notices this, and he watches in fascination at the grip of her fingers and her pussy as he fucks her, as her palm begins to grind down on her clit.

Suddenly, she’s fluttering around his dick in quick pulses, and she’s screaming, and she’s coming, and it’s the hottest fucking thing he’s ever seen, and somewhere they hear the crash of glass against the linoleum but Mulder can't  place it, not over the shattering of the woman around him– and before he can slow down, before he can stop it, he’s coming too, spurting into her hot and thick and groaning loud into her shoulder with his release.

After a moment, Mulder hooks his arms under her legs and lifts her into his arms. She’s all but dead weight, exhausted by her coming apart around him, but she tiredly curls her arms around his neck and presses her lips to his jaw as he walks them to his bedroom. She’s asleep by the time he pulls her into his arms, tucking his blanket tight around them both.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a follow-up to the first time/kitchen sex in the last chapter. This can be read, I think, as a stand-alone if you wish. I promise I'm working on my tendency to always rush the sex lol. Enjoy!

Her skin is moonlight pale in the grey of the dawn, cool under his fingers and lips. Sometime in the night, Scully rolled onto her stomach, slightly away from him; he’d been thankful for the chance to stretch and cool off from her body heat.

But now, now, he wants her skin against his, wants to feel her muscles tremble under him, wants to taste the life of her, know how soft she feels in the dead of the morning before the sun has fully risen. He rouses her gently, slowly, without fully intending to—the only sound is her breath, his fingers whispering over the velvet of her.

As her breath begins to change and her muscles tense slightly under him, Mulder stills. An awful thought enters his head, and he wonders if she’ll push him away when she remembers the events of the previous night. He freezes, his arm hurting from the awkwardness of the weight pressed on it, his front ghosting ever so slightly over her.

“Why’d you stop?” Comes the breath of her voice, thick and throaty with sleep.

He has to laugh, sighing a breath he’d been holding since she first began to stir. “I didn’t know if you were going to kick me out of bed,” he replies, echoing the low tone of her words.

Scully responds in a husky laugh. “It’s your bed,” she tells him, and arches against the hand that smooths down the side of her ribs. “That’s… good,” she says.

“Yeah?” He leaves a trail of butterfly kisses down her spine, his fingernails scratching lightly over the circle of her snake tattoo. The muscles under her skin begin to flutter under his touch. He smiles, chases the fluttering with his lips.

After a few moments of this, however, she begins moving under him—tiny, undulating waves that arch her back and activate the hardness of her thighs. She breathes faster.

“Mulder.”

“Mm?” He kisses the crease under her ass, right where it meets the back of her thigh. She writhes solid but slow and sleep-heavy in his hands.

“Mulder…”

“What do you need, Scully?” He breathes, his mouth hot against her rear. He knows. He wants to hear her say it.

She doesn’t, though. Not yet. Instead, she reaches back to wind a hand around his wrist and brings his fingers between her legs. “You know what I need,” she moans. He nearly gasps when the tip of his index finger dips into the hot seam of her: she drips onto his fingertips.

Mulder moves up her body, his digits playing in the aching wetness. His lips find the back of her neck just as he pushes two fingers into her heat.

“Ohhh,” she sighs into the pillow under her, arching into him with a slow buck of her hips.

He works her slow, dragging the pads of his fingers in deliberate trails along the inside of her. With each stroke, she floods around him as her inner muscles grip his knuckles. While his fingers work, his tongue slips aside her earlobe, along the ridge of her jaw, over the meat of where her shoulder meets the delicate tendons of her neck.

“Mulder,” she moans, her hips moving to meet his strokes. “Mulder, oh…”

He begins lathing the rough flesh of a more sensitive spot and she gasps, trembling under him. He responds by taking the arch of her neck and shoulder wide into his mouth and pressing down light with his teeth. At her moan, he bites harder.

“Oh, god, Mulder,” she turns to face him more fully. “Mulder.”

Her eyes are heavy yet sparkle in the barely-there sunlight. Her hand slips down, along the length of him, and she takes him in her hand. His fingers slip from her and he pauses, just to suck the sweet tanginess of her off his skin. Scully watches him for a moment then squeezes her hand gently around him.

“Now, please.” She opens her thighs to retrieve him, pushing up against his cock. “Mulder, pl—”

Her plea is cut short by a deep moan, one he feels in her muscles as he holds onto her, when he slips hard into her silky heat. He stills, breathing hard against her hair, his hands slipping up and down the feather soft skin of her back.

“You okay?” Scully asks, her hand reaching up to thread in his hair comfortingly.

He grips her around her ribcage, slipping halfway from her slickness at an aching pace. “I don’t think I’m gonna last long,” he admits.

She pulls him down to meet her lips, her kisses unhurried. “I’m with you,” she tells him.

At her reassurance, he slips deep inside her once more. They both moan as he comes to the end of her, and again retreats. His thrusts are the exact opposite of the night before; whereas their first joining was hard, rough, frenzied—this is languid and liquid, deep and pulsing when they come together. Mulder reaches under her hips, slipping his fingers along where they’re joined, gathering wetness, before sliding over the tight bundle of her clit.

“Fuck,” Scully moans into the sheets. “Fuck, Mulder. Like that. Just like that.”

He moves back to the curve of her shoulder, his teeth returning to the mark he’d left a few moments earlier. She throbs around him as his thrusts get deeper, and his teeth bear down over her skin.

“Ungh!” She falls over the edge suddenly, her pussy gripping him in tight, slick pulses, and the surprise quickly fades as Mulder drives into her harder, harder, until he’s coming with her, hugging her tight against him as they both fall.

He slips out of her and onto the empty side of the bed, breathing heavy. She moves up the bed to lay closer, and rolls onto her side to look at him.

They don’t speak, though. Instead, Scully glides up over his chest to his mouth, kissing him lazily, speaking to each other without words. They fall asleep that way, and the blue light of the dawn gives way to soft golden sun.


End file.
